


Ten Years

by ceria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: Minerva McGonagall meets Rolanda Hooch ten years before the end of the first war.
Relationships: Rolanda Hooch/Minerva McGonagall
Kudos: 1





	Ten Years

**Author's Note:**

> old fic! Written for HP springsmut in February 2007  
> backdated to post

Many years ago, she had promised herself to attend professional Quidditch matches each season. After she became a professor at Hogwarts, that promise became harder to keep as the professional season coincided with the school year. Through the years, the number of games Minerva attended slowly dwindled to one. 

Of course, her lack of attendance this year had more to do with the silent war than her busy schedule. Albus needed her help, and she had pledged to support him as much as possible. 

It was a beautiful morning; the sky was clear and the wind sharp and beginning to warm, with just the hint of winter whistling through the almost-bare trees. Minerva sat on a tree stump on the far side of Black Lake, humming the birthday song to herself while skipping stones. This was her favourite time of the year, hence the reason she sat outside watching the sun rise on the far side of the castle.

While she wasn't necessarily feeling sorry for herself, she knew she would be missing a good match that day. With a soft sigh, she began counting the skips again as an owl hooted above her. Ignoring the feeling, she pulled her knees up under her robes and wrapped her arms around the outside of them. It hooted again, shriller, and she looked up, annoyed that something was disturbing her morning. 

Until she noticed the letter in its beak.

Frowning, Minerva stood up and snapped her fingers, signaling for the owl. The quicker she read the letter and dealt with it, the sooner she could return to her ruminations about Quidditch. She recognised him as one of the school owls and patted his head, thanking him, as she took it from his beak. 

Fiddling for a moment, she opened it then set it on the stump beside her. She threw the next two stones before glancing at it; she knew that spindly handwriting.

> Minerva,
> 
> I cannot believe you expected I would forget what today is. Have I not heard you prattle on about it for the last several years? I expect that by the time I drink my tea this morning, you will have left the tree stump at Black Lake and made your way to the pitch.
> 
> Sincerely,  
>  Albus
> 
> PS – Happy birthday, my friend.

She was too ladylike to whoop loudly - well, to whoop loudly on Hogwarts grounds at least – but Minerva quickly, hastily, made her way to her room to change.

* 

Since it was so rare to get away from Hogwarts during the school year, Minerva promised herself she would enjoy the day thoroughly. Her hair twisted and pinned loosely on top of her head instead of her usual compact bun, she didn't even bother to wear a hat.

Sighing contentedly after she arrived, she sat primly in the chair, enjoying the open space around her. Typically at matches she ended up near the largest patron possible who always got too excited and elbowed Minerva, leaving bruises across her arms.

Today though, she had _three_ tickets which left empty seats on either side of her. There would be no excited child with sticky hands touching her nor bruises from enthusiastic fans. She relaxed, slouching a little as she sat in the first row, humming to herself. It was a perfect spring day.

The teams hadn't emerged from their lockers yet, but she leaned forward, old wood creaking beneath her thin frame, staring at the pitch. This was her favorite place to be - with the saccharine smell of sweets pervading her nostrils and the excited murmurs of fans enveloping her.

Opening and closing her hands, she pretended to hold the Snitch, barely remembering what it felt like fluttering against her palm. It had been years since she played for the fun of it; responsibilities to Hogwarts left her little time for enjoyment these days.

She craned her neck, looking for any sign of the Harpies or the Wanderers. It was the perfect match for her, she decided, her favorite Scottish team against her favorite woman's team. This might even be better than Gryffindor winning.

The commentator with his loud baritone voice made her start as he called for silence to announce the Harpies team members. Quivering with happiness, Minerva watched the seven players circle the pitch. The wind whistled between the creases of dark green robes as the players flew in front of her. 

The referee was on her broom near the center of the pitch and Minerva rushed to her feet with the fans to watch the Quaffle spin lazily in the air before the Harpies' Captain snatched it, throwing it to a Chaser. 

With that, the game was afoot and Minerva forgot about time for the next three hours, yelling herself hoarse to encourage her team. 

Sitting close to the Harpies end of the field, she found herself watching the Captain as she cheered. She was brilliant on a broom, and with a little magic, the Captain's voice was amplified enough for Minerva to hear her suggestions for the team. Repeatedly, Minerva nodded in agreement with the ideas.

* 

She hummed a shanty as she followed the other fans out of the stadium. Not far from the pitch, there was a small wizarding pub called _The Last Stop_ that Wanderers were fond of visiting.

Sitting at the bar with her hands wrapped snuggly around a pint, Minerva sipped it delicately, watching the various, familiar antics of the patrons around her. Two older men were twirling in the center of the room, arms locked at the elbows, loudly singing a bawdy song about two girls and a hippogriff. Another group of four men sat at a table beside them, three of them glumly handing galleons to the fourth. She shook her head, unsure why so many logical men squandered their coins on bets. 

It was quickly becoming crowded, but she didn't mind, she would leave long before cute drunkenness turned to rowdiness. Her mug almost empty, Minerva swiveled back toward the bar to ask for a second as someone sat down on her left, bumping her elbow. With a slight twinge from the sharp jab, she dropped her mug, spilling the little bit that remained on the counter.

Pursing her lips, she turned her head to scold the reckless person next to her. Instead, she met the startling bright gold eyes of a young woman.

"That was my fault," she said, "too many people jostling for space. Can I buy you another to replace it?"

"That's alright," Minerva told her, still staring at her rare eyes while pondering what her bloodline was for her to have been born with them. "I was almost finished and it was practically empty."

"It's not a problem," she said, smiling at her, "Besides, I need to celebrate and if you don't mind, you can celebrate with me."

"Gladly then," Minerva said. Who was she to refuse a free pint? "Thank you, and congratulations."

"Anytime," she said, signaling the barkeep. "Are you going to ask me what I want to celebrate?"

Minerva glanced at her sturdy frame, looking down. Practical boots showed beneath the hem of her robes, and across her left breast was a gold talon emblem on a dark green shield.

"Your team won today."

"Yes," she smiled at Minerva, her left hand touching the embroidery. "You're observant."

"I'm curious by nature," Minerva said as explanation. She almost told her that she was a professor, catching herself at the last moment. The woman obviously wanted to talk and Minerva didn't mind. She already had one pint inside her, and it had been a _good_ match. Besides, the lady bought her a drink.

"So what do you do when you're not watching Quidditch?"

"I don't watch Quidditch," she said, the right corner of her lip turning up in a smile.

"You said your team won… Ah, then you play for the Harpies."

"Aye. Captain Rolanda Hooch, at your service."

Albus was the one that saw evil lurking behind every person, not her. Still, it wouldn't hurt to apply caution. "Nice to meet you, Rolanda, my name is Minnie."

Rolanda lifted her pint and clinked it against Minerva's. "To a good match."

"To a good match indeed."

"Even if we beat your team?" Rolanda pointed to her plaid.

Laughing, Minerva nodded, "Even if. I don't mind losing to the Harpies."

Rolanda took another drink, "Good woman."

Glancing over her shoulder, she guffawed once loudly. Without turning around Minerva asked, "Are they still dancing?"

"Yeah, and it must be a beautiful song."

She smiled into her mug; as now the two men would be petting each other's heads. The tall, bald man would have one hand over his heart while he messed up the long strings of gray hair on his friend.

"In a moment," Minerva said, "he'll dip him."

He must have, for Rolanda wolf-whistled, yelling, "Go for it!"

Shaking her head, Minerva didn't have to look to know it ended there. Had the Wanderers won, they would have continued dancing. Instead, as they had lost, the two best friends pretended to be lovers forced to separate. 

Rolanda turned around as well, draining her beer before signaling for two more.

"Oh, I don't drink more than…"

"Not even for a new friend?" Rolanda asked, giving Minerva a shy smile.

Minerva cut her eyes toward her. She seemed to be anxious to stay by her side. Unsure if she was being paranoid, Minerva said with some reservation, "Oh. Well, that'll be fine then." It wasn't often she met a woman her age – especially one who enjoyed Quidditch.

"So, Rolanda, what does your husband do?" Minerva asked, trying to keep the conversation going. The man on her right stood up and left. Immediately, a much larger patron squeezed onto the stool, jostling Minerva.

She frowned, it hadn't been _that_ warm for a spring day, he must have been working outdoors and didn't shower before coming to the pub. Minerva moved as far away as possible, sitting on the edge of the stool, and leaned toward Rolanda. Brushing against her side caused Rolanda to blush and Minerva smiled as she said, "No husband, I'm not the marrying type, I fear."

Minerva nodded in understanding. She'd been accused in the past of wanting her career more than a relationship. Which wasn't necessarily the truth. It was just that most relationships required too much effort. "I understand that, I haven't made the time for one either."

"Oh?" 

Minerva nodded her head, sliding further away from the unpleasant smell of sweat and too much beer. 

"So tell me what you love about Quidditch," Rolanda asked her, moving a little closer as well. The pub was getting crowded now - and louder - as more people came in to celebrate the match.

* 

Their conversation continued, Minerva slowly talking about her life at Hogwarts and listening to Rolanda's funny stories about Quidditch and some of their matches. Eventually her stomach growled reminding Minerva she needed to eat something.

Touching her belly, she smiled at Rolanda, "It's been such a pleasure, but I'm afraid I can't drink anymore, and it's time I eat something."

She left a few galleons on the counter and slid to her feet. Blinking, she giggled as the alcohol rushed to her head, making the room spin. "I do believe Apparating is out of the question."

"Maybe I should help you," Rolanda said with a chuckle, standing up. She tilted a little to one side, making Minerva laugh.

"How about we help each other?"

Nodding at her own words, Minerva slung her arm around Rolanda's shoulders, tottering out of the pub with her. "So how do we get home?"

"I have a flat three streets away," Rolanda said with a smile that Minerva easily translated.

"All right."

They walked the streets of Muggle London in their robes, unable to comprehend the strange looks for their attire. "They act like they've never seen witches before."

Rolanda looked at her, eyes slowly traveling up and down. "I'm sure you're not what they expect from a witch," she touched Minerva's nose. "No warts, no pointy hat. How disappointing."

Giggling at her words, Minerva tried to remember how many beers she drank. She'd had one before Rolanda arrived, then another two with her, and then someone flush with money from their winning bet purchased a round… It became very foggy after that.

Stumbling up the stairs, they continued their heated conversation concerning Comets and Cleansweeps and which was a better broom as they reached her door. It took Rolanda two waves of her wand to unlock it, giggling madly all the while.

Minerva sighed happily when they got inside, dropping to the sofa and leaning back with her eyes closed. She heard Rolanda stumbling around and asked, with her eyes closed, "What you doing?"

"The loo," she answered. "I need to use the looooo."

Which started her laughing again. Trusting her instincts, Minerva decided she was safe here, with this woman. She hoped to get a glance of her arm soon, just to make sure, but there hadn't been any mention of war or battle or choosing sides. Maybe, just maybe, she had been granted the perfect birthday gift.

Sighing in comfort, Minerva kept her eyes closed and snuggled into the soft sofa, her breathing evening out quickly.

* 

In her dream, someone kissed her lips and cheek, softly touching her, undoing the top button of her robes, fingers teasing her, sliding inside the top of the robe and touching her collarbone. She arched her back off the sofa as one hand slowly caressed her skin with only the robe between them, trailing down the front of the robe to the hollow between her breasts.

She woke to soft hands unwinding the bun in her hair. Raising her hand to protest, slightly confused where she was, she opened her mouth to speak, but it was too dry. Someone let go her bun and reached around her, one tanned hand handing her a tall glass of water. Nodding her thanks, Minerva drank. 

"You've beautiful hair," she said, and Minerva smiled. _Rolanda Hooch_. She had walked back to her flat with her from the pub. 

"Thank you."

"Are you still hungry?"

"Yes, would you like to get some dinner?" Minerva asked her.

"I started something, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." This was going to be an amazing friendship, Minerva thought. It was rare she connected so easily with someone female who liked such similar things. Not to mention they may have other similar interests as well, from the way she was treating Minerva.

Rolanda continued to unwind her hair, cooing over her thick black braid. Not quite comfortable after her dream, Minerva didn't move, but she could feel long fingers sliding through her hair, slowly removing the braid. Rolanda finished with the bun and spread Minerva's hair, letting it cascade down the back of the sofa. 

"It's beautiful," Rolanda said in her ear, her warm breath leaving tingles on Minerva's neck.

She turned her head to respond, and opened her eyes wide at how close Rolanda was to her. 

Minerva nodded in thanks - she really had the prettiest eyes. Slowly, Rolanda leaned closer and Minerva held her breath, hoping. Her lips brushed against hers, hesitant, as if she didn't know how Minerva might react. She sat there, very still, then softly returned the kiss. Rolanda made some sort of noise and leaned closer, gently touching the side of her face. Tilting her head against the palm of Rolanda's hand, Minerva opened her lips. 

She wanted more. For a Quidditch player and someone who spent an inordinate about of time outside, Rolanda had the softest lips. Minerva rolled to her side to meet her, silently asking her to kiss her again.

She pulled away and Minerva opened her eyes, "I was afraid you'd hex me," Rolanda said, "for trying that."

Her heart racing from just one kiss, Minerva said, "Not at all, I enjoyed it." She could hear a voice in the back of her head giggling like a schoolgirl. It had been a long time since she shared such a pleasant kiss.

"So did I," she hopped over the back of the sofa and sat down, leaning in for another kiss. Minerva closed her eyes, accepting it. She could hear Albus' voice in the back of her mind, to be careful, to not trust a stranger, but whenever she looked at Rolanda, she didn't see a possible enemy – one of _his_ people. Still, it didn't hurt to be safe. 

Rolanda's left arm was on her knee, as she returned the kiss she wrapped petite fingers around it, caressing her skin. Slowly, in tiny increments, Minerva pushed back the sleeve of Rolanda's robe; thumb rubbing small circles on the inside of her wrist. 

The kiss ended, but Minerva continued with the gentle touch, smirking as Rolanda's eyes widened with desire from such a simple touch. They sat still, both women leaning forward, hovering somewhere between the desire to not appear needy, and the need for their desire. Only her hand moved, caressing higher, pushing robes out of the way, guiding fingernails up the tender inside of her arm. 

Minerva could feel the goose bumps on Rolanda's skin and she smiled at her as she continued her quest. The robe was pushed up to her elbow now and Minerva picked up her arm, staring at Rolanda as she brought it to her lips, kissing the palm of her hand, her wrist, and even higher. 

With a deep, sharp intake of breath, Rolanda whispered, "Tell me you want me."

Her arm was bare of any Mark. Relieved, Minerva nodded, "I want you."

All reason behind them suddenly, Rolanda pushed on Minerva's shoulders, laying her on the sofa. She kneeled on the ground in front of her, eyes trailing across her body as she slowly undid the robe with fingers that didn't tremble, following each movement with a kiss.

She closed her eyes, her long hair askew on the sofa around her body, and let Rolanda touch her as she liked. Each caress was followed by a kiss, and each kiss moved to another erotic spot, one on her breasts, one across her stomach, one on each thigh.

Moaning softly, she pushed her hips off the sofa, unable to control her movements as Rolanda reached between her legs with sure hands, touching her. Trembling from desire and the knowledge this was something she shouldn't do with a woman she only just met, Minerva gasped as Rolanda found her clitoris, flicking back and forth across the skin, making Minerva want more.

With a chuckle, Rolanda pulled her robe over her head, an economy of movement that left Minerva wishing she had taken the time to undress her slowly as well, to reveal the Quidditch-toned body beneath that robe with tiny increments, the same way she caressed her arm. 

Naked, Rolanda stood up, holding out her hands, "Come with me."

Minerva stood, leaving her robe lying on the sofa, dressed only in her cascading hair, and took her hand. She let Rolanda lead her to her bed. She didn't glance at the flat, or the bedroom, her vision filled with golden eyes, a confident smirk and short spiky hair. 

Tumbling into her bed, she wrapped her hands around the back of Rolanda's neck, dragging her forward for another kiss. She couldn't stop wiggling as Rolanda's hands caressed her, fingers between her legs, spreading her lips apart, invading her body completely with such pleasure.

Lost to the sensation of sex, even if it felt more like making love, with a woman she only just met, Minerva closed her eyes and let herself be controlled by gratification for once in her life.

* 

"You could travel with me, if you liked," Rolanda told her much later and Minerva cringed as she told her no.

"Why? What ties you to London, what ties you so much that you don't have time to repeat this?"

How could Minerva tell her she wished it wasn't so. But she couldn’t bring herself to talk about her once-friend who had been named Tom who now terrorised the wizarding world. Albus had just initiated the first members into his Order of the Phoenix, and she had promised to fight by his side.

She wanted to be able to tell Rolanda that she could continue the relationship, that she would drop her life to choose her, but she couldn't say the words, not even as a lie.

"I wish I could, but I have commitments, a promise to a friend to keep, a war to fight."

"War? We are not having any war, what do you speak of?"

Biting the inside of her lip, Minerva refused to answer any more questions and, as she stood, having to leave Rolanda's bed, she regretted the words she already spoke.

* 

What she didn't know that night, as she slowly dressed, was that in ten more years, an older woman would appear at Hogwart's door, not long after Tom's death. She would tell Albus she had heard of an opening for a Quidditch coach for the students, and that if he needed a reference, Minerva might be willing to provide one.

She didn't know that night, that Rolanda would sheepishly come upstairs and knock on her door, telling her she finally understood about the war, and that she was ready to stop traveling with the Harpies, and that she regretted letting Minerva leave her side a decade ago. 

Then she would tell Minerva, that if she was still interested, they might try again, beginning over slowly, knowing there was a hope for the future with the disappearance of that madman.


End file.
